


Anything But

by Zaikyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaikyo/pseuds/Zaikyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are something that no one could ever hope to understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything But

**Author's Note:**

> Dear God, I listened to the Curious Case of Benjamin Button OST during this and almost cried for no apparent reason. My muse needs hugs. <3

  


Cool hands swept over exposed thighs and Sam couldn’t help but uncurl himself into a full body yawn for more contact.  
  
There was just something unnatural and sweet about those hands. About the way they knew exactly how soft to touch to get past Sam's defenses, how they knew precisely when and where to push further into him to make him break. And Sam did break, every time. Like a wall that just needed to topple over to set a million things free. A million gasps and moans and whimpers and God knows whatever else, each of them more a sin than the last.  
  
Which was fuckfulls of wrong, and a simple glance at his morality compass told Sam that.  
  
But with the way those fingers grazed his skin like some kind of precious silk, it almost didn't matter.  
  
Almost.  
  
Wet lips found his and Sam felt himself being devoured into a kiss, too strong to be anything close to casual, too wanting not hold some deep personal claim.  
  
Lucifer's claim.  
  
He pressed back into the kiss with more eagerness than he would like to show, but it was much too late for holding back and playing coy. The devil had him pinned between a motel headboard and the root of all evil and Christ if Sam had anywhere else he wanted to be.  
  
It wasn’t the first time. And it wouldn’t be the last.  
  
Where denying the devil access into his skin turned into Sam practically begging him to take control of everything that was his very existence, Sam could never know. It was shameful, vile, disgusting, and just so fucking wonderful. They were bathing in blood, and nothing could be more cleansing.  
  
An arm snaked around and into Sam's hair, pressing him closer into the mesh of lips than should be physically possible. Sam groaned into it, taking in the opportunity to slide his hands under the devils shirt and feel around for any sort of leverage. And he found it, right between the fourth and fifth rib, a sort of soft spot that quivered silently under his touch.  
  
Lucifer shuddered into him, a little less than enthusiastic over the show of vulnerability. Sam's hands, Sam's touch. Warm and alive and everything Lucifer hated to love. Beautiful, in a sickening kind of way. And so unfairly kind.  
  
Really, what was a bit of bared flesh and obvious need when the repercussions were everything Lucifer wanted and more? His vessel, his  _true_ vessel. Laid out and open, for his purpose and no one else’s. The devil was no stranger to deals, and this was no different.

 

He let Sam explore the surface of his skin, running a hand through wisps of feathered brown hair as he did. Hair that tickled in the most innocent ways. Hair that couldn’t be more beautiful in all of its glorious disarray. With each stray strand that brushed against his fingertips, a jolt of something stirring and bright charged through Lucifer’s veins, comprised completely of the deepest primal instincts and pure, _pure_ ownership. His property. _His Sam_.

 

Lucifer felt like marble, Sam had always noted; if marble were a living, breathing thing. Just as cold and twice as smooth. He was sure that there was nothing left of Nick in there now, nothing but a face and even that was somewhat distorted by the way it flashed its drawing gazes at Sam. Those were never Nick’s eyes. They had always been Lucifer’s. _Always._ As was the rest of him now. Lucifer’s fingers ghosting across his scalp. Lucifer’s breath filling his space with warmth and the fleeting scent of charring wood. Lucifer’s heartbeat under his touch. Sam placed light kisses there, just where he knew Lucifer would feel them the most.

 

Hearts, troublesome as they were, were meant solely to keep things alive. And though it was clear that the devil needed one just as much as Sam needed gills to breathe, he kept it. More so, he _wanted_ it there. For the way it reacted when Sam came into too close a proximity; close enough to breathe in, close enough to taste. He marveled at the weight of it, how it suddenly became heavier when Sam whispered his name in the darkness. He adored the eagerness of it, how it fluttered and jumped at the brunette’s soft touches. But most of all, Lucifer cherished the way it held everything in his borrowed body together by a fragile string. Sure, if it stopped he would be fine, supported by his own tarnished Grace for as long as he wished. But just the illusion that it made a difference was good enough. Others like Sam, they were here and then gone in a second without this, _thing_. They expired. Hearts expired. Sam would one day expire. All because of this pulsing, weak little muscle.

 

But they were also here because of it. Sam was alive and breathing because of it. And Lucifer couldn’t want anything more than to feel the same thing that made this miracle, this abomination of a thing thrive. This embodiment of everything he hated, draped over him in a lazy warmth, leaving nothing untouched, unkissed, unloved. This was the reason for everything falling apart. This was why everything was wrong, and perfect, and beautiful, and horrifying. This was why Lucifer fell, and how he could be reborn.

 

This heart, this species, this _Sam._

Sam took Lucifer’s mouth with his own, entwining his fingers within the devil’s and rolling onto his back, the unspoken sign that he was ready for everything the devil could give. And Lucifer complied, burying himself deep into the waiting curves of Sam’s body, gnawing something fierce into Sam’s soul.

 

Everything about everything was just so wrong these days. So engrossing and addictive and weird. It couldn’t last, fragile and waiting to fall as it was. It had to break some time.

 

But for now, it was anything but over. And they were anything but willing to let go of such a horrible, beautiful thing.


End file.
